


The Third Son

by bluepard



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Babies, Children, Dysfunctional Family, Family Drama, Gen, Loki Has Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-10-01
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-24 05:56:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/259764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluepard/pseuds/bluepard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki hears that his parents have had another son, he decides to enter Asgard and deal with the little usurper. But perhaps there is a better use for him.</p><p>Although Balder is featured in this fic, it's set in the movie's universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Baby

The remark from Thor was well-intentioned, as his hurtful comments often were.

"Our parents have been blessed with a son. We have been blessed with a brother! If you were to come and hold him, I know you would understand that we are your family and have always been--"

But Loki heard nothing past the information that his parents had birthed another child. He had not been gone that long, and although he had told himself he would never return he hadn't expected to be replaced so quickly. He would've expected at least the pretense of mourning or regret before they proved so obviously that he was just a tool meant to remain in Thor's shadow, exchanged with another once no longer useful.

Loki's heart hardened, and he decided he must soon visit Asgard after all.

* * *

Nothing had changed in Asgard, which Loki took as another affront although he wasn't sure what he expected to have changed. It was even still as easy to walk the wild ways into Asgard and invisibly make his way past the guards of the palace. He would have found the security laughable had he not reminded himself that most people could not cloak themselves from Heimdall's eyes as he could, nor would they have spent their entire lives scouting out the palace's short cuts and hiding spots.

The nursery, after so long in disuse, had found its use again. Nursemaids laundered diapers next door with the endless bustle of women who knew it was only a matter of time before their attention was called elsewhere. It seemed the new prince was napping, a stroke of luck.

Loki slipped into the room with the stealth and slipperiness of a shadow, emerging by the crib. The infant was bald and chubby with good health, burbling sweetly with every exhalation. Loki swallowed hard, wondering why he felt almost surprised, as if he came all this way hoping it would not be true.

"You are a true prince of Asgard, I bet," said Loki under his breath, a hand reaching out to catch the infant's cheek, "They would not make the same mistake twice."

He hadn't intended to wake the infant, but at his hissing words the boy's eyes squinted and opened. They were baby blue and guileless, blinking at Loki with a look of innocent curiosity that he supposed was simply an infant's privilege to wear.

"Shh," said Loki. He picked the boy up, but there was no cry as expected. Instead, the boy stared continuously up at Loki with a transfixed look. He grabbed the nearest part of Loki's clothing and mashed it into his mouth, not breaking eye contact.

"He really is a people person," said a voice, and Loki tensed. He did not need to turn around to know who it was. Was he so distracted that he missed her?

"He's memorizing your face," Frigga continued, "He wants to know his big brother."

"He wants a tit," said Loki mirthlessly, "He is an infant."

"Look at him," said Frigga, and Loki found himself doing so. The boy's gaze was intent and penetrating, not like an infant's should be. "He sees you, and he's not afraid."

Frigga walked up to Loki's side. "Nor should he be."

Loki turned away, not meeting either Frigga or the baby's eyes. The child finally turned and began trying to rub his face off on Loki's shirt. He was probably covered with snot and drool now. Loki handed him back to Frigga.

"He's heavier than you'd expect." said Loki, inspecting his shirt for damage.

"Not as heavy as Thor was, thank goodness."

Loki began walking away. He found it impossible, even now, to be angry with his mother. But he couldn't stop himself from asking.

"You couldn't even wait? You had to replace me so soon?"

"Balder is not you, Loki, nor shall he ever be. I look down at him and I see," She did look down, and her mouth became a line of concentration. "--that he will take up an instrument instead of a weapon, that he will be beautiful, and that he will be beloved for his heart."

Frigga looked up. "Just as when your father brought you to me, I looked down on you and saw my son."

Loki did not respond but clenched his fists and fled.


	2. The Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the purposes of this fic Loki escaped from the Avengers.

Loki--he was was not Odinson or Laufeyson or anyone's anything these days--Loki had always been in chains. He realized that now. "Heroes" or "villains," it didn't matter. Asgard used him to their own ends  until he was of no use. After he fell, his new "allies" did the same. They were simply more up front about his role in life, the same old role, really, as someone else's tool.

But all those plans had fallen apart with everyone else on the ground, foes and allies, and him striding away for the first time in his life feeling what must be freedom. He had no plans, no family, no friends, just a great number of enemies and all the time and power and cunning to do whatever it was he wanted.

As soon as he figured out what that was.

Odin was sleeping, and Loki thought briefly of killing him, but he felt so blissfully empty right now and Odin always made him feel too much. Still, the opportunity to stalk Asgard while free from his watch was one Loki couldn't resist.

He ended up stalking the boy instead.

At first, he was not sure what so many of Volstagg's endless brood were doing tramping noisily down the palace's halls, but he shrugged it aside as unimportant and went back to ransacking the library of its knowledge and the rooms of their secrets. But it kept happening--one would think they lived here!--with a great uproar of childish shrieks and giggles every time. Loki had half a mind to show them some real mischief, but often his mother was with them, following behind sedate as ever and talking to Volstagg's wife. Loki did not remember them being friends, but perhaps she was lonely without Odin.

It took him some time to remember that he had a little brother.

He set his book down, his lips a fine line of consternation, and he ghosted his way towards the sound of distant playing. It was silly to think anyone would notice him after all this time and in the presence of such a loud distraction, but he was very careful in hiding himself because he wanted to concentrate. It was, sadly, not very hard to pick out the brat. The boy fit right in among the peasant whelps since he was too young to be clothed in finery and his mother had, for some reason, given him a beastly bowl cut. But he bore a striking resemblance to Thor aside from his hair being brown.

The children chased Balder up and down hallways, in some cases quite literally as he clambered up over furniture and windows and, in one case, a guard, in order to escape them. Apparently he was playing dragon, a fact Loki gleaned when the boy jumped down on another and shouted "You're on fire!" before bursting past the others while they screamed. One child stayed behind to bemoan his fallen sibling briefly before vowing his revenge and coming roaring after.

Loki remembered this. But Thor would spend much of their play time arguing with Sif that she must be the damsel because obviously Thor was the hero. Loki was always relegated to playing the villain, but that was often fine with him. He would tire of listening to them argue after five minutes and disappear, and they would eventually notice and  make a quest of it. That was how he kept getting stuck on the chandelier.

Eventually Balder was caught and stabbed and died in an absurdly long series of melodramatic twitches.

There was much rejoicing and proclamations and the hunt was dedicated to the boy who fell in battle--who was himself back on his feet and rejoicing with the others. Then, after a bit of back and forth, they decided to play Quest and find something to bring something back for their Queen. The dragon's head would do for Odin, they reasoned, but Frigga needed something a bit girlier.

"We shall find his horde!" shouted one of the girls, and they agreed in a chorus, running off with Balder at the tail of the crowd this time, quickly dusting himself off.

Peasant, Loki thought. But Balder looked far too much like his brother for that to feel convincing. Even though he knew the boy was only that--a boy--the idea that he acted so ordinarily bothered Loki somehow. He was a Prince of Asgard and although he was unlikely to inherit, he would someday have as much of a right to the throne as Thor did.

As Loki didn't.

Not that Loki needed a right to Asgard if he wanted it. Not that he was sure he wanted Asgard at all, so dusty with painful memories. Would it really make him happy to have his mother--have Frigga--enchained? To have her cast her sad eyes of love and disappointment on him? Perhaps it might make him happy to see Asgard in cinders and leave nothing behind to remind him or shame him. But Asgard now before him seemed as helpless as Balder had in his cradle all those years ago. A scourge yet to be, perhaps, but he could not muster any feeling for putting the realm down while it lay stupid and dozing.  Odin was not awake to defend it, and Thor was still in Midgard playing at nonsense.

He didn't want to snuff out a candle, he wanted to light firecrackers. He wanted Asgard to burn brilliantly and explode against him and, in doing so, destroy itself. Yes. That is why his feet had drawn him here. He was looking for the means to make Asgard's demise a thing of beauty, a work of art that would engulf all who witnessed it.

Loki's eyes flicked upwards. The children were long gone, and he was alone in the hall. The thought that had brought him back to reality was a simple one. Sometimes simple ones were best, as much as he liked things complicated. Just as one often needed truths to make a lie.

It was after that that he began to stalk Balder in earnest. To his disgust the little boy was fawned over by everyone he met. The cooks fattened him with treats, the guards corrected his sword form, the grumpy skalds broke into grins as they told him tales. Even the birds in the palace gardens flocked to him, alighting on his hands and shoulders and cheeping excitedly as though to tell him the news of the day.

"--Following me?" said the boy, "Where?"

The birds chorused and hopped, and Balder's little head swung in Loki's direction.

"I don't see anyone."

Loki's breath caught in his throat. The birds had told him? He had disturbed a nest in following Balder here, and the damn birds doubtlessly didn't care if they couldn't see who was responsible.

More importantly, they were talking to him. He was talking back. Balder even took a few steps in Loki's direction before shaking his head. There was no way he could see into these shadows even if Loki were not cloaked.

"All right, I'll go in. Good-bye!"

Loki watched the boy run towards the palace and tried to force his tense muscles to relax. He swallowed. He breathed.

Speaking to birds was the sign of a great sorcerer. Even Loki had never been able to learn it--perhaps because he'd never seen the point--but there was a reason for Odin's ravens beyond the practical. They stood on his shoulders as a testament to his magical ability, to the fact that although his people respected him for leading him in battle he had lead them in magic as well. There were all sorts of rumors as to what Odin had done for such power. Perhaps that was why he had chosen ravens as his familiars, to remind others of the corpse-laden battlefields rather than softer things.

It was mostly only other sorcerers who knew what it truly meant. Birds spoke a language older than All-Tongue and were too free in nature to be commanded unless they were raised from the egg.

Or unless you were a tiny Odinson, apparently.

Loki suppressed a sneer. This was useful. This was the first thing Loki had seen which might drive a wedge between the little prince and his people. A sorcerer! A sorcerer who did not demand to play the hero, a sorcerer who said please and thank you, a boy that never should have been born a prince. A peasant born to royalty, that was what Balder was.

"You've gone too far the other way," Loki murmured to himself. "Thor is too arrogant but this one is too compliant. Too pliable."

Loki wondered if he should do anything at all. This early on they might easily correct his efforts and any rumors--the boy was too sympathetic at this age--but on the other hand, the boy was basking in the undeserved adoration of the people.

No, he must wait. Balder would discover who he was on his own, and his support would disappear and he would feel

feel

Loki turned and stalked off to explore the rest of Asgard. He couldn't count on just one young prince's fallen ego to topple the realm.


	3. The Youth

By the time Loki returned again to Asgard Balder was hitting puberty. Although it was easy to keep Thor preoccupied with Midgard and easier still to loan a little power to some fool or another and watch the Avengers spin their wheels chasing them, Loki still felt the need to make frequent personal appearances.

For one thing, it was fun.

But it was also necessary, he was sure, for Thor to think he was as preoccupied with the silly planet as Thor himself was, for Thor to think his plots were directed at mortals and not at his home lest he return and stay. Loki was probably overestimating Thor's skills, but even a brainless canine could smell when something was off. Thor had his instincts if nothing else, so Loki would keep leaving him scents to follow: an alliance with Doom, a thrilling kidnapping of that woman of his--oh, how he had enjoyed playing that part. He would have made a fine actor if he did say so himself, but the world was a better stage. Currently he was pretending he had been beaten and betrayed by some ally of his and was off licking his wounds. In reality he'd taken up the arduous journey through his interests throughout the Nine Realms to see where his plans might be unraveling and to tug them back into place again.

Things were going well aside from a complete upset in Nornheim--damn Karnilla--and while he puzzled out the best means of action he was prowling the halls of his former home again.

In a way, it was always a surprise to find it here. Nothing had changed. Of course nothing had changed. But he felt like it should have been ruined or at least covered in ivy. Like his departure should have made a difference, like the destruction of his world should have been the destruction of this one.

It would be, eventually, but it still felt wrong.

In any case there was the boy, not quite so much a boy now and yet even more one. He was turning out to be possibly even more wretchedly handsome than Thor was, though for now he was far too young to be called anything so manly. As if that were not bad enough, he found Balder within the training grounds, wielding a sword with some skill for his age. Could he turn out to be both a swordsman and a sorcerer? No, he would have to choose or be half-skilled at both, a situation which would not be allowed in a prince.

If he chose the sword, would he be forgiven the sorcery?

Loki frowned. Of course he would. The boy positively sparkled. So long as he toed the line and looked the part--as a true full-blooded Son of Asgard should--his little sorcery deficiency would be just like Thor's little personality deficiency. Sorcery was thought cheating, but how could it be cheating if you never used it?

Loki watched ever silently becoming more and more tense as Balder went through his lessons and finally wiped the sweat from his brow, leaving to shower. It was obvious the others liked him--adored him! Indulged him!--and nothing had changed since the last time he was here.

It was time for the boy to grow up.

* * *

After following Balder for some time, Loki determined a few things:

  
1) No one knew about his sorcery.  
2) Everyone loved him.  
3) Balder was the most obnoxious person he knew aside from Thor.

Loki was sure that first item lead directly to the second. Still, what he saw troubled him. He recalled now what Frigga had told him long ago. Balder would be beloved. That was true. But wasn't it inevitable?

She had also said that he would pick up an instrument instead of a sword. Not quite. Loki did see the boy trying--badly--to play a lyre for his birds. But he seemed just as happy to be swinging his practice sword at all the other violent little urchins. Perhaps that would change, but Loki could not see Balder being both beloved and a bard. That sort of thing was beneath a prince. Still, Seers never saw everything. The sorcery was the key. Loki had to make everyone aware of Balder's talent, make him develop it, make it force him into the shadows. Make Balder remind everyone of their least favorite former son.

Although Loki walked the halls of Asgard and although he was not what most would call sane, he was not so mad that he thought he could bring down the realm with pure power or even simple deceit. Nor would he if he could. It couldn't be that simple. It shouldn't be.

No, he had learned. In the past thousand years, the closest Asgard had come to destruction was when he himself had sat on the throne. He had turned his eye on proving himself and focused his wrath on Jotunheim, so Asgard stood here today still. But if it were to fall Loki doubted it would ever be to giants or elves or dwarfs. Asgard knew how to fight its wars. That was why it was best that it should fight itself. The issue was how. How to expose the boy's abilities?

Well, why risk himself? He could always use an intermediary, an old ally or an old enemy or someone who was both, he had many of those.

That was it. The boy was just about hitting puberty, and Loki knew someone who specialized with seduction as well as magic. All he needed was an excuse.

* * *

"Let's hear it, Loki," Amora said, pouring herself a drink and not bothering to offer him one. From her attitude it seemed something was not going right, and she did not feel like pretending to like him, something they both knew wasn't true. She was all business today, ready to kick him out and have some drooling boytoy massage her feet. "What do you want?

Loki allowed the attitude. Some other time he might have tried to cower her, but today he had nothing to offer and little to threaten her with. "I am seeking information about Asgard."

"Asgard?" Amora swirled her drink around before sipping it. "You have your sights set back on Asgard?"

"I have my sights set everywhere, Amora," said Loki smoothly, "But it is harder for me to see into Asgard. Loyalty is a hard quality to buy."

"You poor thing," She smiled wickedly.

"You  still have access to Asgard, do you not?" Loki steepled his hands and then spread them expressively. "I simply need you to keep an eye on it, especially the royal family."

"And I should risk aggravating the royal family because--?"

"I will give you information on Thor."

Loki knew this was a long-standing weakness of Amora's. Once, when they were younger, Amora had tried to catch the prince's eye. But he had already been seeing someone at the time and had made a big show of nobly doing the honorable thing and turning her down. She had been incensed and likely still was. Amora was considered by many to be the most beautiful woman in Asgard, and she could have any man she wanted.

Any except that idiot, apparently. Since Thor was seeing that mortal, it was unlikely Amora's chances had improved, but she seemed set on having him if only to stab him in the heart with it later.

"What sort of information?" said Amora. Her reply was guarded but interested.

"On his preferences, of course. Little things that might help you gain his attentions. You know how observant I am, all I am asking is that you be equally observant." He put his hands behind his back and began to walk the room, head bowed with thought. "I still see Thor quite often in Asgard. It's easy to observe him there. But I know far too little of what the Allfather has been up to, and I have heard only vague reports about the lovable little scamp who is likely to make himself my new enemy. I need you inside the palace. I need you to befriend Thor--and hopefully more. I have reason to help you, Amora, and you me."

Amora chuckled and downed the rest of her glass.

"You are always so convincing, Silvertongue, for all that your plans end in failure."

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he resisted the urge to narrow his back at her.

"I will consider your oh-so-generous offer."

Loki nodded and gave a shallow, formal bow before disappearing through the secret paths that led back to his current sanctuary. Now it was a matter of whether he had read Amora correctly. He had known her for a long time, true, but sometimes he found people hard to predict. They were just so stupid. He couldn't be asked to think that way. Usually he tried to add in a "if they are complete morons" clause to his plans to make them more likely to succeed, but it was always possible to underestimate the stupidity of some people.

Especially Thor.

Adding Amora to the mix definitely would make the situation less certain, but he had to admit he liked the challenge of that. If things went haywire then it gave him reason to go haywire in return, so to speak. So let Amora use her charm on the littlest prince, let her learn secrets and try to use them for her own ends. He was already ahead of her and awaiting any possible (and likely) betrayal, he could and would turn her actions to his own ends just as she would try to turn Balder's and Thor's to hers. He didn't need to seduce of the innocent when he had the ability to manipulate the corrupt.

* * *

Thor was still in Midgard, but there was the boy. He was obviously Thor's brother, of that Amora was sure. There was no other way for someone to be this frustrating and oblivious.

Amora was never a woman to have trouble seducing anyone, and while she had no intention of flirting with a barely pubescent boy that should not stop him from falling for her. Amora had advantages over the other women in not just looks and sorcery, after all. She also had cunning. Many women still believed they ought to make their intentions known through body language and innuendo. Amora acted as though she did as well (in public, at least) but she could make overtures that were stronger than words without looking forward. If she should happen to trip into their arms, if she should happen to flash her skin, if she should happen to be in the gardens and catch them alone ...

Most men did not need a lot of encouragement to drop their jaws and hang their tongues, and she'd still be able to play the passive, swooning, love-struck, ultra-feminine goddess wrapped around their pinky finger who they would do anything for. Who they would swear was a delicate flower who needed their protection. It was a game and an art.

It all went right over the boy's head.

She wondered vaguely if he was not still too far a child, but no, he was growing tall and strong, and her wiles should work. He should blush and fluster or proclaim to show his eternal love by slaying all the dragons in the land and all the other thing boys of his age (and twice their age, and twice that) did. But he somehow did not seem to notice.

It should not have bothered her, because she did not need his love. He was friendly and answered all her questions about himself and seemed to want to get to know her. She got close enough to learn the goings-on of the royal house or at least some of them. Apparently his mother had warned him not to talk too freely to her, something which did not surprise Amora. Amora held both a grudge and a certain amount of respect for the Queen. But that, Amora told herself, was probably why the boy had no carnal interest for her. Most youths would like nothing better than a forbidden tryst, but Balder seemed far too boring for it--and Amora had to admit that Balder had plenty of admirers who would not earn him the ire of the most frightening pair of parents in the realm.

Yes, so long as she had her information it didn't matter, truly. It still took no time at all for Amora to learn about the birds. She watched him converse back and forth for more than a few minutes, her mind blank. The light shone on him, and it was all terribly innocent, the kind of innocence she would wager did not, in fact, exist anywhere in the world. Then the wheels and cogs of her mind began to spin again, and she realized this was far too good to give to Loki.

What instead? Try to blackmail the royal family? No, Amora was not so stupid as to think they would allow that. Given the way Odin treated Loki despite all, she knew how possessive and protective the old man could be. She would only be inviting some horror onto herself that way.

Maybe this was something she should share after all, just not with Loki. Covering something up was one thing, but covering up the cover up or the cover up for the cover up of the cover up--lies all the way down--at some point it would be simpler, more effective, and unavoidable to just give her what she wanted. As for what she wanted, well. Something small. Just the first step toward ensnaring Thor and the rest of Asgard.


End file.
